


Not Enough Rum in the Fruit Cake

by EdgarAllenPoet



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Christmas, Family, Gen, Tour Bus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 15:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1903944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgarAllenPoet/pseuds/EdgarAllenPoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There’s a lot of people here,” Ryan said, scanning the room with his eyes.  He was right.  There were.  </p><p>     “I told you there’d be like thirty of us,” Brendon chuckled a bit.  The Urie clan could be kind of intimidating.  And loud.  Really loud.  And kind of huggy.  No wonder Ryan looked terrified.</p><p>     “I thought you were exaggerating,” Ryan said, still scanning.  “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m just not used to…”</p><p>     “Yeah,” Brendon nudged him with his shoulder.  “I know.  Hey, it’s okay.  If you feel too freaked out, we can go stick our heads in the oven or jump off the roof or spike the eggnog or something,”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Enough Rum in the Fruit Cake

**Author's Note:**

> Full Title: There’s Not Nearly Enough Rum in the Fruit Cake to Get Through This Kind of Event- a song by Fall Out Boy.

Brendon is slightly ecstatic. He loves Christmas, always has, and he’s had a warm feeling in his chest ever since his mom had called him to make sure he’d be home. She called. She cared. Even after their huge blow out fight. Even after Brendon moved out while he was still in high school, the month of silence, the second huge blow out fight right before Brendon went on tour, and then a teary apology begging him to forgive them and oh-Brendon-we’re-so-proud-of-you-sweetie. Even after he hung up in the middle of the apology and threw his phone across the bus in aggravation (he had a bad temper, what could he say?). Even after he checked and realized it had broken, he took Spencer’s and called his parents back, crying more than they had and begging them to love him again.

It was a mess. It really was. 

It definitely hadn’t been an easy year for any of them. Spencer wasn’t used to being away from home, but at least he had Ryan, so something was still kind of the same. Brendon was falling apart at the seams thanks to his family, but they took him back and that’s all that mattered to him, really. Ryan’s father had passed away just a month ago, and while he still looked incredibly distant and out of it occasionally, he was okay most of the time. Spencer also had a trick with tugging gently on a piece of Ryan’s hair that calmed him down incredibly. Brendon thought it was magic, it had to be magic.

That was just personal stuff, too. Brent abandoned them just a few months in, leaving them hanging and begging random bands to pleasepleaseplease just loan them their bassist for one show, we’ll give them back we promise, dude you don’t understand. But then they got Jon, who was their knight in shining armor, so it all worked out.

Everything worked out. And now he was going home for Christmas. Brendon was happy enough to float. 

He and Jon were in the back lounge, belting out Christmas songs loudly along with the CD Jon had put in the tv (the fact that televisions played CDs was just another reason Brendon loved life at the moment). 

Just as they sang out “BUT BABY IT’S COLD OUTSIDE!” in a not-so-perfect harmony, Spencer came into the back and took Brendon by the arm. 

“I need to talk to you,” 

Uh-oh, Brendon thought, feeling for some reason that he was in trouble, but really that’s a bit ridiculous. One, because he didn’t do anything. Two, because this was Spencer Smith and really what could he do to make Spencer mad?

Quite a few things actually…. Uh-oh.

“What’s up?” Brendon asked after being pulled from the back into the bunk area. The younger boy sat on a bunk across from him and set his hands on his knees, and Brendon raised an eyebrow.

“Ryan has headphones on and is reading in the front,” Spencer said. “I need your help with something,”

Spencer had a habit of switching topics really fast while he talked, or maybe he just assumed people could read his mind and thus could connect the lines that he was leaving out of the conversation. Or maybe he was just confusing. Brendon wasn’t sure what Ryan had to do with Spencer needing help, or what Spencer needed help with since he was the most independent and responsible eighteen year old that Brendon had ever met, but he shrugged and nodded anyways.

“Sure,” he sat down across from Spencer in Jon’s bunk. “What can I do for you?” he smiled.

“Ryan,”

Brendon choked on air. “I can do Ryan?” he squeaked, blushing a bit.

Spencer reached over and flicked him in the side of the head, making Brendon pout and rub it. “Don’t be a dumb ass. My grandpa is in the hospital, last Christmas or something, he’s not doing so well. Mom already bought my plane ticket there,”

Brendon frowned and dropped his hands into his lap. “Oh.. I’m sorry…” Brendon had never had anyone die in his family while he was alive. His mother’s parents were dead before he was born, but everyone else (Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, distant relatives, Great Aunt Ubele who smelled like Crisco all the time and was a tad bit crazy) was still accounted for. He didn’t know what it felt like to have a loved one die, but he still pitied Spencer and Ryan. It couldn’t feel good. 

The other boy just shrugged. “I mean… he’s old. I used to see him all the time when he lived with us after Grandma died, but then he moved down to Florida to fulfill his lifelong dream when I was seven, and I haven’t seen him since,”

“What was his lifelong dream?” Brendon asked.

Spencer gave him the Brendon-you’re-a-dumb-ass face. “Living in Florida…”

“Oh…”

“Anyways!” Spencer clapped his hands together and Brendon jumped. He was feeling a bit jumpy. He may have had a few too many Redbulls earlier. Was three too many? Probably. “That’s not the issue. The issue is Ryan,”

There Spencer goes again, jumping subjects like crazy. Brendon decided to stay silent until Spencer continued. He started bouncing his knee. 

“I need you to take Ryan home for Christmas,” Spencer said finally. Brendon started tapping his fingers on the knee that wasn’t bouncing. “I can’t take him down to Florida with me. He’d be bored out of his mind in the hospital and my aunts would all be tisking about having someone who isn’t family there for the event. Also, his dad died two months ago. He has nowhere to go,”

Brendon nodded. “I’ll call my mom and ask, but really she shouldn’t have a problem with it,” Spencer immediately stood and pulled Brendon into a hug, surprising him and making him squeak a bit. 

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou. Let’s go tell Ryan,” he let go of Brendon and walked purposefully into the other room (Spencer Smith was the king of power walks, in Brendon’s opinion). “Ryan!” he set his hand on Ryan’s shoulder, but Ryan was unaffected. He pulled out his earbuds and closed his book calmly. 

After taking a breath, he burst out “Spencer!” in the same tone that had just been used. Spencer rolled his eyes and nudged him to scoot over, then sat next to him on the couch. Zack was sitting at the table and ignoring them.

“I fixed it,” Spencer said, Ryan just stared at him expressionless. “You can go to Brendon’s for Christmas,”

Ryan immediately reopened his book and started reading again, or at least he was pretending to read. Sometimes it was hard to tell. “I told you. I can just go to my apartment. It’s fine,”

“You aren’t spending Christmas alone, Ryan,” Spencer said sternly, taking Ryan’s book and holding it up high when Ryan grabbed for it. 

“Spencer! Give it back!” Ryan complained, practically on top of Spencer trying to reach it. He wasn’t hesitant to use bony knees and elbows in his efforts. 

“No!” Spencer said back, and eventually the two fell off of the couch and were wrestling for the book on the floor of the bus. Ryan got ahold of Spencer’s ear and tugged, and Spencer grabbed Ryan’s knee in a way that made him squeal with laughter. He accidentally kicked up and kneed Spencer in the stomach, which made the latter curl up into a ball. 

“Oh shit…” he groaned. Ryan sat up and blinked, a bit rumpled and disoriented. Zack, always the opportunist, picked up a pillow and hit Ryan in the back with it. Ryan was unaffected.

“Well,” Brendon said from his position of safety on the couch, “If you can fight like that, you’ll get along fine with my brothers,” Ryan snatched his book out of Spencer’s hand and threw it at Brendon, but he was smiling a bit, and Brendon was laughing, and Spencer was groaning about his stomach. Zack rolled his eyes.

 

“You’re sure they won’t mind?” Ryan asked for the millionth time. “I can just take your car and drive to my apartment, or I can walk,”

Brendon rolled his eyes and made sure that Ryan wasn’t going to run away as he knocked on the front door. “Seriously, Ry, with thirty people here for Christmas, what’s one more mouth to feed?”

Ryan sighed. As soon as the front door was opened, Mrs. Urie quickly gathered her son into a big, teary hug and kissed the side of his head a million times and apologized again. Brendon had missed his mother’s hugs, and he hugged back just as tight. Eventually she let him go and wiped her eyes, which settled on an awkwardly fidgeting Ryan Ross. Mrs. Urie grabbed him into a hug as well, making Ryan’s eyes grow huge in surprise as he blushed. She ushered them inside, chattering about getting some meat on their bones, and why were they not wearing jackets? The dogs, two large golden retrievers, danced around their legs excitedly. Ryan seemed to relax a bit as he petted them.

“Ma,” Brendon said, following her into the familiar house that he hadn’t seen in too long. “We’re in Vegas. It’s 85 degrees outside,”

“Don’t sass me, mister,” she said, tutting around the kitchen. 

“Listen to your mother,” Brendon heard his father’s voice call from somewhere in the house and he had to smile. Yeah, he was home.

 

Ryan and Brendon arrived the day before Christmas Eve at 10 a.m. Kara, Mason, and Valerie were already home, since they still lived in town and Kara still at home. As soon as Mason came in after work, he grabbed Brendon into a headlock and nuggied him, refusing to let him loose until he named five different types of cereal. Brendon smoothed down his hair and scowled indignantly at his brother once released, but then quickly accepted the hug he was offered.

Valarie sat Ryan down at the kitchen table and proceeded to ask Ryan 101 questions while they peeled potatoes. Eventually Ryan looked so overwhelmed that he might evaporate or start crying, so Brendon swooped in and pulled Ryan off to safety. 

“I’m going to show Ryan where he’ll be sleeping,” Brendon told his mother, pulling Ryan out of the room by his hand and wondering if he was required to give explanations for having boys in his room, because what did his family know anyways, and he was technically an adult, and what was he even thinking right now? Seriously Brendon, calm down. 

“Well, here it is,” Brendon shouldered open his bedroom door (it stuck a little. Brendon remembered that without thinking about it. It made him feel kind of homesick even though he was already home). He looked around his bedroom, which he had shared with Mason since he was born. The walls were blue, and there was a crucifix above each of their beds. He looked around a bit at the stupid action figures that sat perched on a shelf and his old books, the four bibles that he hadn’t opened in three years. There were old pictures tacked to the wall by his bed and the stain from Mason’s really bad nosebleed when he was eight was still right next to the closet door. There wasn’t a speck of dust. His mom had been busy.

“It’s nice,” Ryan said, looking around and running his fingertips over things. He smiled at a picture of tiny Brendon cradling his dad’s guitar and trying to play it. “Your dad totally rocked that mustache,”

Brendon laughed. “I’ll let him know,”

“It’s kind of empty,” he noticed a poster near Brendon’s bed that read Brittney Spears and laughed. “Dude,”

“Shut up,” Brendon blushed, but laughed too. “It was my first concert,”

“Only concert,” Ryan corrected. 

Brendon picked up his pillow and threw it at Ryan. “Fuck you, I am in concerts now dumb ass,” 

His mother just happened to be passing by at that moment with laundry. “Brendon Boyd, watch your language,” 

“Sorry,” he said quickly. He flopped back onto his bed and stared at his ceiling. “Wow…” 

“Yeah,” Ryan sat next to him. “It feels weird, being home?”

“Yeah,” Brendon breathed out. Ryan gave him a small smile and laid back next to him.

“Yeah,”

 

Brendon saw his dad for the first time at dinner that night. Mrs. Urie had given her husband the job of wrapping Christmas presents, and he’d been busy doing that in the basement the entire day. 

Brendon held his breath when he first saw him, his father’s parting words echoing in his ears and he felt his stomach twist. He was scared. It was stupid. He kind of wanted to go hide. 

Mr. Urie stepped forward and hugged his son, briskly and tight. “Good to see you, kiddo,” Brendon relaxed. That’s all he needed to hear. He glanced over at Ryan and noticed that he looked rather stiff and uncomfortable. 

“Are you okay?” Brendon asked quietly, leaning close. Ryan immediately wiped at his eyes and nodded. “I’m great. I’m just going to… I need some air, I’ll be back soon,” he headed out the front door. Mrs. Urie called after him to take a jacket please.

“Mom, we live in the desert,” Brendon reminded her.

“A bottle of water then, Ryan, I don’t want you catching ill!”

Brendon rolled his eyes because seriously, his mother…

 

“No,” Brendon said quickly, mouth pressed into a firm line. “No, I’m not going,” It was a weird instance that put Christmas Eve on Sunday and Christmas on Monday, which meant two days of church in a row (three if they went twice on Sunday, once for the normal service and once for evening Christmas Eve service, which Brendon wasn’t going to. He wasn’t going to any of them).

“Brendon, be reasonable,” his mother said. “For heaven’s sake, it’s Christmas!”

“I’m not going! Ryan and I can stay here, and you guys can go without us. Seriously, what’s the big deal?” Brendon took his coffee mug to the sink and washed it out. Kara wandered in from somewhere and took it from him as soon as he finished drying it. She poured herself a cup of coffee.

“The big deal is that we go as a family, and like it or not you are part of this family!” His father said sternly, staring him down, but oh no. Brendon could handle this. After all, if he could handle Spencer’s bitch face stare downs and Ryan’s random temper tantrums and Jon’s weird eyebrow raise of judgment, he could handle his father. 

“I like being a part of it, but this is ridiculous!” Brendon argued. Ryan was leaning against a piece of counter that he had claimed as his own and only moved whenever Mrs. Urie nudged him out of the way to open a drawer. He didn’t seem to mind much. He seemed to be trying to make himself as small as possible, and it was a little bit adorable. Ryan was all bed head and giant eyes staring over his coffee cup at the commotion. 

“Your mother told you to do something and you are going to obey her, young man,” His father growled out. Brendon wanted to scream.

He didn’t. He took a deep breath and thought about poise and rationality and all that jazz. “Dad. I am not a Mormon anymore. Ryan isn’t religious as all. You can’t make us go to church with you,” he tried to sound as practical as possible. His mother sniffled.

“Look at that, you’re making your mother cry!” his father said. Great, Brendon thought. I’m ruining Christmas, and it’s only seven a.m.

“Hey,” Ryan’s hand touched Brendon’s elbow and he turned his head towards him. Ryan had stepped closer and it took Brendon by surprise. “I don’t mind going. I’ve never been to Mormon church or whatever… plus, it’s Christmas. Just go along with it,” He said it quietly. Brendon sighed and nodded. 

“Okay,” he said aloud. “Okay, we’ll go,”

Mrs. Urie hugged him again. Holidays made her emotional. 

“We leave in an hour. Go wake up your brother,” Mr. Urie ruffled Brendon’s hair and shooed him out of the kitchen.

 

Ryan had claimed a section of the wall and was guarding it with his life, arms wrapped tight around him and eyes wide. He looked horribly out of place. Brendon idled up to him and placed a cup of hot chocolate in his hand. Ryan forced a small grin and sipped at it, and Brendon could tell from his expression that he burned his tongue.

“Are you okay?” Brendon asked, letting their shoulders touch.

Ryan nodded quickly. “Fine,”

“You look a bit scared,”

“There’s a lot of people here,” Ryan said, scanning the room with his eyes. He was right. There were. 

“I told you there’d be like thirty of us,” Brendon chuckled a bit. The Urie clan could be kind of intimidating. And loud. Really loud. And kind of huggy. No wonder Ryan looked terrified.

“I thought you were exaggerating,” Ryan said, still scanning. “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m just not used to…”

“Yeah,” Brendon nudged him with his shoulder. “I know. Hey, it’s okay. If you feel too freaked out, we can go stick our heads in the oven or jump off the roof or spike the eggnog or something,”

Ryan nodded and grinned a little. “Okay,”

Brendon stayed next to him for a while and watched the room. It was nice, the way it was every Christmas. There was garland hanging over the windows, the Christmas tree in the corner of the room completely covered with ornaments. The ‘countdown to Christmas’ calendar hung on the wall, even though there weren’t any kids in the house to flip the numbers every day. The thought made Brendon a bit sad and he hoped that his nieces and nephews came over a lot to keep his parents company.

“BRENDON!” a shout came as soon as Brendon heard the front door open. “WHERE ARE YOU HIDING, YOU LITTLE PUNNK?!” Well, Uncle Al was there. Brendon tried to melt into the wall closer to Ryan and hide, but he was quickly grabbed by his brother Matthew and thrown over his shoulder. 

“Matthew!” Brendon yelped. “Put me down!”

“No way little bro,” Matthew ran into the backyard with him. “You ditched us last March and we never got to give you your birthday spanking,”

“Don’t hurt your brother!” his mother scolded from the kitchen.

Oh shit. “Oh no! Oh hell no, Matthew don’t you dare!” Brendon squirmed around furiously, throwing Matthew off balance (He was bigger than Brendon, but not that big) and landing them both in the grass, where they tumbled around in a wrestling match.

“You are way too old for this! What are you now, forty?” Brendon taunted his brother, who was eight years older than him and already had three kids. 

“Oh you are so dead,” Mason threatened, but with the anonymous shout of “DOG PILE!” Brendon soon found himself squished under the crushing weight of both brothers, a slew of cousins, Uncle Al, and five year old Zeke, who looked awfully proud of himself. Soon there was a golden retriever licking his face and he couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Oh my God get off of me!” Brendon yelled, too crushed to wiggle free. Someone accidentally kicked him in the face, or maybe it was on purpose. He couldn’t tell he laughed again, then looked up to see Ryan laughing hysterically, doubled over and pointing. Brendon flipped him off.

“Brendon Boyd Urie! I saw that!” his mom was spying from the kitchen window. 

Brendon rolled his eyes. “Sorry Mom! Hey guys, go get Ryan!” a couple of his younger cousins broke away from the dog pile and ran towards Ryan, who was quickly tackled to the ground. Ten year olds were heavy in bulk.

 

“This kid right here is a scrapper,” Mason slung his arm around Ryan’s shoulders once everyone was back inside. The majority of the young people (and Uncle Al) were all sweaty and dirty now from rough housing. 

“He elbowed me in the ribs, gosh darn it. I’m gonna have a bruise,” Mason said. Ryan blushed and hide his eyes behind his hair, but he was smiling, so Brendon smiled and punched him lightly in the shoulder.

“Get em, tiger,” he said. An aunt raised an eyebrow at him from across the room and Kara gave him a look.. Brendon stuck his tongue out at them. What the hell?

 

Seating arrangements for dinner were always complicated at Christmas. This year almost all of the adults were touching elbows at the Urie’s huge dining room table (they added a shorter table to the end of it, and it was still crowded) and the kids were at two smaller tables in the living room. Matthew got shoved off to the kid’s table to supervise, since three of the monsters were his anyways. Brendon assumed he’d have to sit at the kid’s table too (he always did) so he was surprised when his mom grabbed him by the back of the collar and said “Oh no, you’re with us this year, kid,”

Huh, this was new. Okay.

Brendon was squeezed between Ryan and Uncle Al, across the table from Kara, who kicked him occasionally for fun (maybe they deserved to be at the kids’ table still) . At one end of the table was his father and at the other was his grandfather. Aunt Ubele sat on Ryan’s other side and kept petting his arm and remarking how soft his skin was, and Uncle Al kept telling jokes that made Ryan chuckle and blush a bit. Ryan responded with a few of his own, causing Uncle Al to hoot with laughter and reach around Brendon to cup his hand on the back of Ryan’s neck. 

“I like this kid! Can we trade him out for someone?” he teased. Ryan’s smile looked genuine as he pulled free, and Brendon smiled and nudged him with his elbow.

“Better than Christmas by yourself?” he whispered, and Ryan’s smile dimmed a little as he shrugged.

“Yeah… I guess so,”

Brendon’s father lead the table in prayer before dinner, and Brendon and Ryan mimed along after getting an incredibly mean glare from Brendon’s grandmother. Sheesh. 

A little while into dinner the conversation had grown comfortable and everyone was just about done when one of the aunts spoke up. 

“So Brendon,” she said. “When were you going to introduce us to your boyfriend?”

Ryan had just taken a sip of water and then proceeded to choke on it. Uncle Al reached around Brendon again to slap the choking boy hard on the back and say “There ya go buddy, there ya go,” which probably wasn’t helping. 

Brendon coughed. “Uhm, excuse me?” All the other conversations had stopped.

“It’s not polite to leave him unintroduced,” his aunt said. She gave Brendon a smile. “How long have you two been together?”

Ryan was still trying to get water out of his wind pipe. Brendon was trying to figure out how to speak. 

“I… we aren’t…” Brendon stuttered out. The conversation kept going without him.

“Wait!” Matthew’s wife said. “Brendon’s gay? Since when?”

“Since always,” his sister replied with an eye roll. 

“Leave the boys alone,” his mother was quite red in the face. “Why are we having this conversation at the dinner table?”

“You know they make this special tea…” his grandmother chimed in, wiping her mouth with a napkin. It came away red with lipstick. 

The table grew even louder with several people talking at once. Ryan looked petrified, frozen in his seat, but Brendon couldn’t worry about that at the moment. He pushed his plate away on the table and proceeded to hit his head repeatedly against it.

“I won’t have any faggots in this family!” one of the uncles yelled.

“Don’t call them that! What’s wrong with you!?”

“This isn’t appropriate dinner conversation,”

“Ha! You owe me twenty dollars, sucker!”

“Special tea to balance your hormones sweetie…”

Uncle Al chuckled and nudged Brendon. “He always has been a little light in his loafers!”

“Do you people want Brendon to leave again? Shut up already!” That was Kara. Nobody listened to her. For once Brendon wished that they would.

“It’s just a shame...” one of the aunts tutted. “A darn shame,”

“Do you like tea, Brendon?” his grandmother asked, reaching over to pet Brendon’s hair. He jerked away and sat up.

“Won’t have any dirty sinners in my family…” someone grumbled.

Brendon slammed his hand on the table and yelled out, “ENOUGH!” as loud as he could. Everyone shut up and froze, eyes on Brendon. Well, everyone except Aunt Ubele, who was scraping her half-eaten food onto Ryan’s plate and excusing herself from the table. She had dementia, so she did strange things sometimes. 

He took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice steady as he spoke. “Ryan isn’t my boyfriend. He’s my band mate and friend and he’s here because he had nowhere else to go for Christmas. But you know what?” Okay, fuck being calm, he was yelling. “If he were my boyfriend it wouldn’t be any of your business, because my sexual orientation is none of your God damned business!” 

He stood and made to storm out of the room, but a tiny voice in the doorway stopped him. “Uncle Brenny! Will you come play dollies with me? Pleeeeeeease?” 

Perfect, just perfect. It was his four year old niece, Matthew’s daughter, and really how could he say no to that? He wanted to laugh at the whole situation, but instead he felt all of his energy drain out of him. He sighed, glancing back at the table where he had every set of eyes glued to him and silent (except for Aunt Ubele, she was shuffling around the table, and Ryan who was frowning at his plate).

“Yeah, okay,” he sighed, letting her grab onto his hand to lead him. “Let’s go play,”

“Hey,” Ryan was leaning against the doorway at the bottom of the basement stairs. Brendon looked up at him from the couch, where he had five little kids sleeping on him, a Disney movie on the TV, and a princess crown on his head. Ryan grinned at him a bit sideways, and Brendon blushed, looking back at the tv.

“Hi,”

“I talked to your family,” Ryan said, picking his way over (there were toys all over the floor) and sitting on the other end of the couch. “I showed them a picture of my girlfriend,”

Brendon looked at him and frowned. “But she broke up…”

Ryan grinned. “It was a girl from a few weeks ago. The one who snuck backstage and tried to take Jon’s pants off,”

Brendon laughed quiet enough to not wake the kids. “Right, her. How could I forget?”

“She was a hoot,” Ryan said. “Anyways. They probably won’t ask again, so that’s over. They asked me a lot about the band,”

Brendon nodded. “That’s cool,” He probably didn’t sound as excited as usual, but he couldn’t really help that at this point.

“What they said really got to you,” Ryan said, frowning a bit. Brendon would have shrugged had he not been covered in children. Instead he chose not to respond.  
Ryan sighed and relaxed back against the couch. After a while of just staring at the tv screen (Beauty and the Beast, by the way) he spoke again. “Thanks for bringing me,”

Brendon glanced over at him. “I was a bit worried they were all ruining it,” he said quietly.

Ryan grinned again and shook his head. “No. They’re a bit loud and opinionated, but so are you, so I’m used to it,” he teased.

“Ha,” Brendon laughed dryly. 

“No, but… They’re fun. And… I’ve always kind of wanted a bit family like this,” Ryan said, twisting his hands together in his lap. “I think they’re upstairs getting drunk and singing Christmas carols,”

Brendon laughed again. “They aren’t so bad sometimes. If you ask Uncle Al he’ll give you a drink, just don’t let my mom catch you,”

Ryan smirked. “I’ll keep that in mind. You wanna tell me what’s on your mind now?”

Brendon stopped laughing and turned back to the tv, he was really quiet for a moment, but so was Ryan, so he finally sighed. “I’m not coming out to them on Christmas,” he said. “I just got them all back. I… I can’t lose them again,” 

Ryan bit his bottom lip and reached over to take Brendon’s hand. “Hey,” he squeezed it gently. “They’re your family. They love you,”

“They all think I’m ‘light in my loafers,’” he said, pouting and rolling his eyes. Yes, he was pouting. Suck it.

“Well,” Ryan said, squeezing his hand again, “Are you?”

Brendon turned to him, offended and probably showing it on his face. “Does it matter?” he snapped, and Ryan smiled like he’d just won the lottery. 

“Exactly,” he let go of Brendon’s hand and stood. “It doesn’t matter. Now get up and stop pouting. Let’s go get tipsy on eggnog and dance to the Beach Boys Christmas album,”

Brendon carefully untangled himself from the mess of kids on the couch and followed Ryan up the stairs. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

Ryan grinned. “Yeah, me too,”

 

Brendon woke up in the morning on the couch, held tight in someone’s arms, the Christmas lights twinkling and turning the room red in the dull morning light. He twisted around a bit and realized his captor was Ryan, who was snoring lightly. Oh yes, he remembered, they’d wandered up to bed at 2 a.m. the night prior to find Aunt Ubele in Brendon’s bed and two other people in Mason’s, so they went back downstairs and passed out on the couch. There was someone else on the other couch, and four of Brendon’s younger cousins had crowded onto an air mattress on the floor. Matthew was snoring on the arm chair with his youngest asleep on his chest. Brendon looked around for the clock, which had been moved since he’d left home, and saw that it was 5:13 a.m. 

“Jesus,” he muttered, laying back down and trying to fall back asleep. Ryan stirred and pulled him a bit closer, making Brendon blush. Everyone in the band knew that sleeping in a close proximity of Ryan meant becoming his pillow some time during the night. Ryan’s spindly arms and legs would wrap around anyone.

Brendon wasn’t much better, really. He just clung to people during the day, rather than subconsciously at night. Normally Brendon wouldn’t care at all about being Ryan’s personal teddy bear. In fact, it would probably make him all bubbly and happy any other time to have Ryan spooned up against his back, but now he was surrounded by his sleeping family, who all thought he was gay, and this wouldn’t exactly help his cause. 

He squirmed a bit, but Ryan just clung to him tighter, and Brendon eventually gave up. He let his eyes fall closed, feeling himself falling asleep, and decided that he could just deal with it in the morning.

 

“WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!” the chanting went on and on and Brendon threw a hand out to try and turn the alarm clock off. Unfortunately, there were ten alarm clocks climbing all over him and hitting him with pillows and trying to tickle him awake. His hand landed on a face, and then proceeded to get licked. Someone giggled.  
“Brendonnnn,” Ryan whined, nuzzling into the back of Brendon’s t-shirt and hiding under the blankets. “Make them stop,”

“Alright, alright,” Matthew yawned and stood up. “They can’t get up with you climbing on them,” he picked one of his own kids off of Brendon. “Go wake up Grandma and Grandpa,” 

The kids ran off, kicking Brendon and Ryan accidentally in the process, and Brendon groaned and buried his face in the couch. “Too fucking early for this,”

Matthew laughed and ruffled his brother’s hair. “Merry Christmas. I’m going to buy coffee. Want some?” Brendon made grabby hands.

“Please,”

“Me too,” Ryan groaned, rubbing his eyes.

“You’d better get up before the kids come back. There are presents to be opened, you know,”

 

Brendon blinked a few times at the mass of fabric in his hands. Ryan, who was sitting on the floor next to him, stared at it as well. 

“Panicked ducks?” Ryan whispered. “Why does it say ‘panicked ducks?’” Brendon shrugged. How was he supposed to know what it meant?

“Do you like your scarf?” Grandma asked, smiling at Brendon. “It has your band name on it!” she looked so happy, and Brendon and Ryan’s faces formed identical ‘Ooooooh’s of understanding. Then they both almost died laughing. 

“Thanks Grandma,” Brendon said, giggling. “It’s perfect,”

 

“Here,” Brendon said later, standing in the front hallway of his house. Most everyone was still in the living room, which was flooded with torn up Christmas paper, and others occupied the kitchen. 

Ryan inspected the package in his hands.

Brendon cleared his throat. “You’re supposed to open it,” He got flicked in the head.

“I know that, I’m just looking at it,” 

Brendon rubbed his head. “I need those brain cells!” he complained. Ryan flicked him again, and Brendon muttered something about him turning into Spencer. 

Ryan finally tore the paper off, not being gentle at all after his special examination process. He let the paper fall to the floor and smiled wide at the thing in his hands. “Dude!”

“Yeah….”

“I’ve only wanted to read this for forever!” Ryan exclaimed, already opening up the book and reading the inside cover. “Oh my God, thanks!” He surged forward and hugged Brendon, and Brendon laughed, almost falling over.

“I know,” he said. “You only talk about it every time we watch the movie. Which is a lot. Like, every week. Always breaking the rules, you are. Rule #1 is that you don’t talk about fight club. Rule #2 is….”

Ryan flicked him again but kept hugging him. “Shut up, Brendon,”

Brendon hugged him back tight and made them rock back and forth slightly. Ryan cleared his throat a little. “Thank you. I got you something, but it’s in the bus… I was going to… everyone at the same time. When we get back together,”

Kara came out of the living room and saw them hugging. She laughed and called “Looooverrrrrrrs,” while she walked away.

“Love you too, Kara!” Brendon called after her. Then four children spilled into the hallway and danced around Ryan and Brendon (who had pulled away from each other) chanting “Lovers! Lovers! Lovers!”

 

“You’d better come back to me,” Mrs. Urie shook her youngest a bit, then hugged him for the millionth time, the pulled back and wrapped his new scarf around his neck. 

“Ma, it’s hot outside,” Brendon said, trying to pull the scarf off.

“Just humor your old mother, Brendon,” she scolded, rewrapping the scarf. “If you don’t come back then I will track down that tour bus and kidnap you and bring you back myself, you hear me?”

“I don’t think Zack would let that happen,” Ryan commented. She shot him a look.

“Do not question a mother’s abilities, young man. Don’t you forget to eat! You’re so skinny, you need a milkshake a day or something,” she said, pushing Ryan’s bangs out of his eye. Ryan didn’t seem to mind, really. 

“You make sure he eats, Brendon,” Mrs. Urie said, then to Ryan, “And you just call me if he’s bad. I’ll come out there and smack him for you,”

“Maaaaa,” Brendon complained. 

She smiled warmly and patted his shoulder. “Yes, yes. Get going. Don’t miss your flight,” She ushered them out of the house and Brendon could tell she was holding back tears. He kissed her on the cheek. 

“I’ll call, okay?”

“You’d better!” 

He laughed and waved, “Merry Christmas,” He took Ryan’s bag from him and threw it in the car. His mother was giving them a peculiar look, but she stood there in the door waving until Brendon had driven too far to see his house anymore. 

“Can I come with you again maybe?” Ryan asked, a bit hesitantly. “Next Christmas?”

Brendon smiled wide. “Dude, that wasn’t even the biggest holiday. I should bring you home for Easter and see how you handle it. There’s eggs full of confetti, and every one of those kids is hyped up on sugar, it’s insane,”

Ryan grinned. “Are you hyped up on sugar too? Cause you could probably out-hyper all of those kids,”

Brendon smirked. “Maybe,”

Ryan chuckled. “Maybe,”


End file.
